Chapter 11 - THE FIRST DATE I CHOSE
Dante asked me to dinner three weeks later.
I said no.
He looked disappointed.
But he nodded.
“Okay.”
Then I smiled.
“I'd rather have coffee.”
His expression changed.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere ordinary.”
He laughed.
“I can do ordinary.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Can you?”
He considered.
“I'm willing to learn.”
We met at a small café in the West Village.
No private dining room.
No expensive wine.
No men in suits standing by the door.
Just two cups of coffee and a plate of lemon cookies.
Dante arrived early.
He wore jeans.
I almost laughed.
“You own jeans?”
“Apparently.”
I smiled.
“You look uncomfortable.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
We talked for two hours.
Not about Marcus.
Not about the investigation.
About music.
Books.
Childhood.
Bad movies.
The things we'd wanted to become when we were young.
Dante told me he once wanted to be an architect.
I stared.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“I liked the idea of building something that would outlast me.”
I smiled.
“And instead?”
“I inherited a business.”
“And a reputation.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
I studied him.
“Do you like who you've become?”
He was quiet for a long time.
“Some days.”
I nodded.
“That sounds honest.”
When we left, Dante walked me to the subway.
He didn't insist on driving me.
Didn't tell me the train was unsafe.
Didn't offer to have someone follow me.
He simply stood beside the entrance.
“I had a good time,” he said.
“So did I.”
He hesitated.
“May I kiss you?”
My heart began racing.
For years, affection had been something Marcus demanded.
Now a man was asking.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
Brief.
And entirely mine to choose.
When I pulled back, Dante looked almost shy.
“Good night, Mia.”
“Good night, Dante.”
May you like
I went down the subway steps smiling.
For the first time in years, I was looking forward to tomorrow.
